His Legacy
by veronca
Summary: Kain


Nosgoth.   
  
A breathtaking and awesome display woven from spiritual hands, not belonging to anyone or anything in particular and in this case, it was an unholy ground where the powerful coveted. What with its splendor that could send a mere mortal man to his knees and cry to return to the chains in the caverns of his chained existence. Nothing less than an allegory would do for mankind in the darkness of its hold.   
  
In present day, a treacherous vampire with the powers of a god--stands above it all, carefully watching as if there existed something or anything that would take it away from his grasp.   
  
Kain ponders silently and misplaced in musings with the nine majestic Pillars of Nosgoth soaring over his immortal self--casting darkness to overwhelm the hallow orchard, which surrounds it by the nurturing nature of an earthly mother.   
  
It is a wonder how a balance that supported the world would become unraveled at the chaotic ministrations of Nupraptor's insanity at the raw knowledge of his long dead Ariel, who was slain in savage destruction.   
  
And Kain reflects as he scans the horizon of white open sky and threatening clouds of gloom all carefully painted in maneuvered detail. He had been such a callous youth then with the desire to be the new overlord as the Pillar of Balance and what about balance? Had he even the notion of what balance is? It mattered not really, so long as he was able to feel the coursing blood that fed his needy soul like a man desirous of a great love.   
  
Kain wore on a look of a fraught, distortion and chaos were always a favourable forte and he stumbles in the pitiable beauty of it. Whereas another man in his position may have taken a less turbulent route and believed in some tiny miniscule part that there be a god that cared.   
  
So much for that.   
  
The desserts of his murders, lacking substance and the voices of the past had dimmed to a senseless dull. How could he deny the power within him that begs to be used for his leisure? Isn't it simple enough for a man with his great intelligence want nothing less? As if there were even an alternative for him.  
  
The weathering days and the distance between the wide yawning years were nothing in comparison to the feel of power that coursed through him in the space of a second. The rights of humans and the companions of demons and vampires of his ilk were enough company for him to muse and enjoy himself. The delights of torturing his nemesis's downfalls and weaknesses were indeed great.   
  
Watching the careful manipulations in their deliberate actions gave him rise for some kind of rising high regard but he admired no one.   
  
In the days before, the times when he as a younger man, perhaps in the youthfulness of his mortal life he had become aware of the bane of humanity and the sadness of what it evoked. They lusted for power, each and every one of them and yes, even the weaker ones whose dirty exploitations were to use those who had less intelligence than they. Yet they had an inherited ability to capture those who could rouse a crowd and create a scene.   
  
The powerful ones, oh, if you can call them that, he reflects, they had their worth because it was what human underlings had given up. In what little power they had to elevate the wealthier and power hungry mongrels. Were they happy that they had done so?  
  
With long white hair and the countenance of a devil, already Kain emitted a presence that brought out the fear in humanity and this was his reign before his god like status. There he can control and manipulate events to his leisure, ah, but there was the time when he felt the fragrance of humanity within him. He felt he could surpass even his neighbors in anything for he enjoyed his own great intellect and the physical prowess which had been designed in him since birth.   
  
His enemies were becoming heated with the yearning to eliminate him. This knowledge gave him a kind of inexplicable feeling.   
  
Even now—he spies upon his nemesis in hiding, calculating their way towards his existence to come to rest. Rest? He gives a long aching sigh. It has been a long time since he could feel at peace. Peace had never attracted a being like him. Those belong to the weaker races that could never attain power and excel further than the desire to become better than they are. If only they knew the secret to immortality and the pains in achieving it.  
  
He had the answers but would not give them away just yet. Or ever. There was a time he had even been confronted with messiahs that showed no fear. Now that gave him a bit of amusement—to become an underling, serving and comforted in a kind of plastic existence of love. Love. An illusion at best and serves a creature to believe in a kind of contentedness.   
  
Would he ever feel content?   
  
That and questions that arose in his mind gave him to sneer and take on a glint of unexpected unabashed feelings.   
  
The answer was simple. No.   
  
So his enemies have come a calling again. The chase was always rewarding as he ponders in pleasure. And the vampire walks in the direction of his foes, his long tattered cloak billowing in the thick fusion of cyclic and turbulent ambiance. Clouds scatter in fluttering confusion as they consume the wake of the vampire ruler of Nosgoth. 


End file.
